


FIRE (of his hair)& ICE (blue of his eyes)

by Raine_on_me



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-17 15:15:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18967837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raine_on_me/pseuds/Raine_on_me
Summary: So it's a GoT universe it's essentially the Jon snow and Ygritte love story but not set in the same time because I didn't want to deal with GoT characters.Mickey milkovich. Father Warden of the north Terry Milkovich who's a drunk and doesn't give a shit about the people under his keep. He got the position on his name sake. Mickey hoped to be more than his name....





	FIRE (of his hair)& ICE (blue of his eyes)

**Author's Note:**

> This was suppose to be short....what happened?!!

He stepped over the body going to his usual table. Fucking drunken idiots, the lot of them.

Mikhailo had been drinking since he was a child; barely old enough to hold the cup upright. His father; Warden of the North believed ale made babies sleep better, and never trusted a man who wouldn't drink. Terry believed all men should be able to fight drunk so it was no excuse when someone gave him the line about having all their facilities in check, and anyone who chose not to drink had alternative motive and were not to be in his company.

Furthermore Mikhailo had a weapon in his hand at all times since he was seven. His father put a sword in his hand the day a group of wildlings came over the wall, through their village, killing his mother; He remembered hiding with his brother and younger sister in the pig pen, feeling useless.

He could remember the feeling the first time he had pushed his sword through someone, his hand didn't shake until after, after pulling the blade from the crumpling heap that was the butchers son. It wasn't seeing the blood or knowing the boy was dead. It was a tremble of xhilaration and that terrified him. He also remembered his father being proud of him, it was a rare sight in his home. The more it happened, the more his father made him an executioner, his father's proud and arrogant smile now made him nauseas, it made him feel like scum. He hated how good he become at killing people.

To remedy this; he drank.

The tavern could have been one of any in the North. Small, wooden shack, but somehow cozy; never full but with the same drunks hanging around, still somehow homey. More of a home than his current one. Those who drank knew who he was. They left him alone to drink in his corner. He grumbled seeing the place full with knights. All with their pale blue robes, and silver armor. Mikhailo never trusted someone with a clean suit; Meant they'd never saw real battle, they didn't know combat

Ignatius Milkovich was waiting for him "Iggy, started without me as usual" he called to his brother. No one ever called him Ignatius, perhaps because Iggy would cut their tongues out.

"It taste like piss, I'll drink yours" he offered.

"Ey, selfless act I'm fucking sure." Mikhailo grabbed the cup from his brother. "You haven't found anyone to fuck in this place yet?"

"Nah, Angie's over there if the night gets rough" he brother pointed with his gauntlet. "Lots of new blood for you little brother" Iggy winked

Mikhailo rolled his eyes. He didn't like to make a show of it like those pansies in Highgarden or Dorne. He fucked who he fucked and it shouldn't matter to anyone else, especially any King who thought they could denounced that way of life.

"Lighten up brother, drink!" Iggy insisted.

***

He was not drunk. He was absolutely one hundred percent not drunk. He had drank exactly three, no four, drinks and that was it. Besides, what else does one do in a tavern.

"You ain't my type" mikhailo shooed away another whore.

"Mickey, you think she could be my type." His siblings were the only one to call him Mickey

"A fucking horse is your type"

Too many eyes, too many opportunities for people to voice their dislike. So rather than looking at anyone he fancied, Mickey had refused to look at anyone; especially an anyone who wore blue. He wasn't familiar where the Vail stood on such matters. What he didn't realize is not looking was its own tease and flirting.

“Have you been thinking about me?" The bold young man asked approaching Mickey's table

"Doubt it, I don't know you" Mickey barely lifted his head in the direction of the voice.

"You mean to tell me, you haven't been trying to not look at me?" His body, hunching over the small table, leaning toward Mickey

"Did that make sense? Or am I too drunk?" Iggy asked.

"How do you look at someone and pretend like you’re not blinded by them every time they so much as enter the room?” the squire obviously thought highly of himself. "You are stunning, you know that, those eyes .." Yes everyone always mentioned the eyes.

"And you got hands soft as a lady, and a tongue as quick as a whip but we ain't here to point out the obvious, it's about what you can so with your gifts."

"Ah, so I take it yer a pillow biter."

Mickey hated that term. He wasn't one himself, being placed in such a vulnerable position. That would involve too much trust, and Mikhailo didn't trust anyone. "Nah, I prefer doing the fucking"

"Bold and beautiful" his fingertips grazed on Mickey's arm. He had been right about the soft hands.

 

He brushed Mickey's scraggly hair from his face. There wasn't anything romantic about the kiss, no lingering look into one another's eyes. This was business, this was satisfactory, an impulse need nothing more. Mickey barely touched the guy, his hands stayed in the table, his chin tilted up to meet his mouth; little effort on his Mickey leaned into the embrace, and parting his mouth, an invitation. The squire had a quick tongue indeed, slipping into Mickey's mouth, the sweet wine still on his lips.

He needed to move, to not be the center of attention. Too many eyes. He didn't like it. But he was too late.

"Get a room" a voice called from behind him. Lord Wren had entered the tavern.

"My squire said he could 'just tell' you were into this sort of thing. " Wren made a sneer. "I said No, not a Milkovich. But look at you, didn't take any swindling for you to just---"

"Fuck you, I could say I was drunk, look the hair on him, he could look like a girl!" Mickey stared at Wren, hoping this Juvenal staring contest would be enough to make Wren back off

"Would you look at those eyes" Wren nudged his Squires arm. "I've heard tales of white walkers. Always assumed it was a fable Northerners told their children." The young lord mocked. It wasn't the first time someone commented on the colour of mikhailo's eyes. It was as if no one had ever seen a blue eyed child before. He could understand his eyes were brighter than most but it got old fast, a childish taunt which drunk adults still found humourous

Mickey's eyes darted between them. Had he been set up, had he been that stupid? He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand trying to distance himself from what just happened.

Wren Arryn was going to be the Lord of the Vail. The Arrays named their boys after birds ever since Lord Robin Arryn enjoyed making people fly like brid out of his moon door.

Wren never having traveled the world, only observing from the safety of the tallest tower, his father believed in showing him the realm he would have command and allies. He was young, his name day only just past making him fifteen. His father however did not bare his son until he was already an old frail man; no longer useful in teaching him the sword or combat skills. Yes they had guards and servants to provide the education. But the ability to learn the sword from a high-born is better than anything from a poor famer.

He was a bored little child, probably enjoyed torturing small animals and whore; he wouldn't be the first or last Lord who enjoyed those things

"Your daddy fuck a white walker whore?" Lord Wren asked.

"What do they call a bastard of a walker?"

The wooden chair scratched the floor as Mikhailo pushed off the table his sword already drawn. "Fucker, I'm of house Milkovich, next in line to be the Lord of the North. I---"

"Mickey!" His sister yelled from the doorway; she was the only one who called him that. It didn't sound as Regal or threatening, it sounded small; like a mouse. Some squire or scared bar keep must have sent for her, knowing she was the balance when he was this drunk.

When Mandy arrived at the tavern, Mickey had the poor young lord pinned to the wall. His sword inches away from the kids eye. Mickey may be high-born, but he wasn't particularly learned in etiquette.

Mandy had her sword low to the ground "everyone out" she ordered. Drinks spilled as patrons bolted for the door, coins left on the table; she would be sure to pick those up. There was a look in her brothers eye; one she was familiar with - rage and vengeance, she had seen it the day her mother died, the day Mickey caught the stable boy in her room or the times their father would beat them. What all this meant was that somebody was sure to lose their head. And not figuratively.

She picked up the cup of wine left on the table and took a large swig. "What the fuck are you two doing?" She asked through the gulp

Iggy was still sitting nearby, nursing a cup of wine, which Mandy could tell from the slight pink flush of his cheeks that it’s not his first. It was clear he wasn't truly drunk, because he simply looks amused and when Iggy is shit faced drunk people die. "He's just havin' a bit o' fun" Iggy yelled over to his sister "ain't got no plans to really kill em"

"Shut up Ig, you got no idea what I'm thinking"

“oi, alright, outside. You scared the piss outta him" Mandy pushed the sword down slowly "you ain't doing this here" she whispered to her brother

Iggy gave the barmaid an apologetic wink as he and Mandy wrangled Mickey. "Eyes forward Ig" Mandy sighed feeling like she was doing the most of the work.

Mickey was fuming when they got out into the fresh air. He paced between his siblings "they set me up, they try to dishonor a Lord? I'll kill 'em both of them." He kicked the taven wall in frustration he hissed with pain.

"You ain't killing anyone, he's a Lord too, with a bigger army so take a damn breath, drink some ale and find a new cock to suck" Mandy was the most level headed of the Milkovich's, no one ever thought of her as smart; she was only a woman. But she could manipulate any man and often could see the potential in someone so she would take it upon herself to make it happen.

“Shake it off” Iggy who was more concerned with getting back inside than his brothers tantrum. “We don’t need to be explaining how a Lord died in a tavern in the North full of his guards and the house Milkovich by his side. It don't end well, ya see?.”

“I wasn’t actually going to kill him” mikhailo grumbled.

“We know” Iggy smiled slinging an arm around his younger brother.

“I'm going to mutilate that squire!" He murmured breaking away from his siblings, seeing the squire slithering away in the darkness.

Mandy crossed her arms "he's as stubborn as a mule" she and Mickey held a gaze "it'll be fine… yeah, it's just a squire way better than a Lord" she was trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince Iggy.

"Shouldn't we go with him?" Iggy grumbled "support him? Or somethin"

"He wants to start a war, we will not support that, we don't have then man power" always with the military mind.

****  
Adrenalin flooded his system as he approached the dark ally. His hand on the head of the small blade he kept on his belt; good for close combat

"What are you playin' at?" He yelled through the darkness.

"I’m not going to fight you My'Lord.” the squire knew all too well he couldn't beat Mickey in combat, and if by magic he was able to defeat a Milkovich in battle he'd be hung for killing a Lord.

“perfect because I ain't plannin' to fight you, .” Mickey gave him a mean right hook to the face, nothing held back. "You got two choices. I cut off your dick or I cut out your tongue." Mickey pulled the small sword from his belt.

"Me'Lord I am a squire of Lord Arryn you can't…" the boy squeaked

"Ay, and yer in the North trying to fuck over a future Warden of the North of house Milkovich. I can do what I want"

The Squires arms came up to protect his already bloody face. He swung his left arm out in a punch. Mickey barely had to dodge out the the way. Mickey's hand grasped over the fist. "They say the unsullied are the best fighters, and they ain't got a cock." Mickey informed him. "but you're shit at fighting, so Imma rip out your tongue."

The squire could feel his heart racing, the idea of never being able to talk again, the fear of choking to death on his own blood as the tongue was removed from his body. His eyes never left Mickey's blade.

"Stick your tongue out or I'll just kill you here."

Death would be less painful. But the desire to save ones life is strong and not always rational.

The motion was quick, almost too quick for the pain to fully be acknowledge, the taste of iron filled his mouth as blood spat everywhere. The young squire made noises not of this world before passing out from the pain.

Mickey left him there, the tongue left on the dirt next to the body. He did what he had to do, to keep his reputation, to keep from word spreading to his father, to prove no one fucked with Mikhailo Milkovich.

******  
"Mikhailo you have mutilated a child, you have brought dishonor to your house, you have caused an open rebellion against the Vail who have been allies for decades." A council was assembled to deal with the situation.

"I made him better, no one wants a servant who talks to much" Mickey blurted knowing full well it wasn't his time to speak. The glares of disapproval proved that.

"What would you have me do, kill the boy?" Terry snarled, mikhailo had received enough beatings from Terry that he was honestly shocked by the questioning tone. He was Terry's heir, yes he had Iggy but everyone was already shocked he hadn't died in an ill conceived brawl with a goat. And he had a sister but Terry would never let a woman run his kingdom.

The council blinked back at him. "My Lord, this cannot be simply ignored. This one act would sully your house name, it will start a war if not treated properly" Mickey tried desperately not to laugh, knowing all the acts Terry has done that has certainly sullied the house name.

There were some who agreed with Mickey. That cutting ones tongue out was a form of punishment. But such brutality hadn't been practiced in many years.

One thing they could all agree on was that there was no precedent for this. They argued, they drank, they talked about the Gods and how they would demand justice for this act. How the Vail would need to see some kind of reprimand.

The meeting went on for another hour like that,let him prance around like an untouchable lord, behead the boy, give him the same mutilation he gave the boy.

"He can't be a Lord if he can't talk!" Terry reminded them "ain't never been a halfwit lord" Mickey sneered at the comment Terry knew he wasn't a halfwit and not having a tongue wasn't going to make him stupid.

"Let him take the black," the old maester finally spoke. To be honest Mickey had been wondering if the walking skeleton was asleep or dead the entire conversation. The old crack in his voice was able to cut cleanly across the most recent squabble that had broken out. When he spoke people listened.

Mickey shrugged, not much of a difference between living with Terry and living in the wall. He'd still have to kill people, forsake his title as Lord and Warden of the North; he honestly believed Mandy would be the best choice of Terry's children to take over so with him out of the way it'd make it easier for her to get that. Bare no children and he'd have to swear off woman; which was fine since he already had.

He would rise quickly enough in the Watch, he could regain some honour; if he cared about that. It was better than a beheading at least.

****  
Castle Black was not a true castle, as Mickey looked around it had no walls to defend it to the west, east, or south. Only the Wall stands to the north. It consisted of several stone towers and timber keeps. Included the Lord commanders keep. Mickey wondered if he wanted to be Lord commander having all those people looking to him, to lead them. He'd be better suited to a Ranger, getting to leave the confines of the castle riding alone, killing anything that got in his way.

Mickey never saw himself taking a vow, commenting himself to something. He felt stupid saying it with twenty other men; whom he'd now call brother's. Mickey's voice was low as he muttered the words.

"Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory."

 

  
[fish baby name](https://babynamesetc.com/animal)  
Mickey decided to take the rickety winch evelator up to the top. Up there, high above the ground, the northern winds were howling, rolling thick, snow-bearing clouds across the waning moon. The starlight glittering off the ice of the Wall was the only real light they had, scant though it was.

The land beyond the Wall had been treacherous for those who choose to survive against its elements, and the threat of the white walkers loom as they march south to the wall.

Yet as Mickey looked out, all he wanted was to ride off into the white abyss. His own siblings annoyed him now living in an entire castle full of new brothers was making him claustrophobic. He knows he will be one of the youngest to make first Rangers, that title only reserved for the most experienced. If his sword skills weren't going to be proof enough, his ability to do well in isolation will make him the ideal choice to explore the North.

Coming down to reality, Mickey watched as the untrained men of the nights watch learned how to hold a sword, how to defend themselves. He should stay, he had been trained in a castle not by cattle like this lot. Watching them fall and scampered to around on the ground quickly made him change his mind. He'd kill all of them for their stupidity.

Finding a seat in the dining hall, he had the pick of any seat but chose to find a bench near the fire, near the back. The room slowly filled, men clustered off the same as young girls in clucking like hens.

The Lord commander Jacobi walked in. The room felt silent.

"I’ve got a mission for who ever one of you cunts are brave enough for it. We need someone to go beyond the wall. Infiltrate a wildling camp…"

Whispers filled the room. Not all the men were cut out for a task like that. All the new brother's of the watch made sure not to make eye contact with anyone. Mickey however started right through the Lord commander.

"I'll go" he said before anyone else could take the opportunity away from him

"You've only just arrived. You do not know our ways." Lord Jacobi reminded. Mickey had only just arrived but he had already taken a liking to him. Perhaps he had hopes of training him to be Lord commander one day. Afterall Mickey was the first real person of authority to walk through those walls in some time. It also meant he was more trained in battle than most of them as well.

"Maybe that's what you need. Seems to me the things you've been doing ain't working "

"It does seem to me that you’re the only fool around here with any common sense and half a brain, and the balls to speak up" he spoke directly to Mickey before raising his head to look over the whole room

“scouts have come back from the wild side of the wall. It seems like a significant gathering of wildlings has formed, and for claiming to be "free" they seem to had named someone their king." All of the Intel regarding the wildlings was all hearsay. But the wildlings were known to never bend the knee for anyone.

"So you want me to kill him? Bring em back here?"

“I want,” the older man started “I want you to track down the Wild King’s son. He’s a key weakness in the man’s resolve, and if we take him, the rest of the wildling forces will crumble, maybe even revolt.”

Mickey frowned "I won't kill a child." He said blatantly. What Mickey deemed a child all depended on how much the child annoyed him.

“You’re not here to question my orders. You’re here to follow them through to the letter. Is that understood?”

Mickey was never good at biting his tongue but if he wanted over the wall he'd have to shut up. He nodded.

“Good.” Commander Jacobi replied. “You’ve got one week or I’m sending in the cavalry. Don’t let me down, Milkovich.”

"Ay, we sure they won't kill 'em with eyes like that." One of the brother's elbowed the guy next to him, the room erupted with laughter.

"Nah, he'll fit right in, bet them wildlings would love to fuck a white walker." Another laughed.

Mickey would ride out tonight if he could before he heard one more joke.

***  
A whispering chill filled the air, and a flurry of snow whisped around Mickey's feet. It was dawn, he swung his heavy black cloak over his shoulders. Mounting his horse he rode through the white wall not needing to say any goodbyes.

The air stung his face, the cold air filled his lungs, he felt alive moving swiftly toward the forest. Free at last. There was nothing to see for miles except snow. All he knew was a direction; head north till he found them or fell off the face of the earth.

The cold that had seemed mild at first now numbed his face and extremities. What residual heat he had absorbed in the castle, bundled into his heavy crow cloak was gone. With each breath more heat rose in puffs of white vapour, with each gust of the wind more heat dissipated into the whiteness.

Eventually, Mickey found a patch of grass unhindered by trees, he dismounted, allowing his horse to graze for a while as he gathered his bearings. Mickey trusted nothing beyond the wall, his eyes shifted between the trees he reached backwards to his rucksack, unfastening it before pulling out a small amount of food he had packed earlier. The bread was chewy and tough, but would suffice.

One of the first things any northerner learns was that wildlings, as primitive as they seemed, had the ability to utilize their surroundings, blending with the trees and rocks, using the sounds of nature around them to lure out prey and corner outsiders. After making a thorough scan of the land, and setting up some simple precautions, Trained as he had been, it would not be as difficult to recognize the sounds of a wildling tracking him.

Mickey tied his horse to the tree and made a small camp for the night. His back proper up on the bark of the tree his eyes feeling heavy as he did a final scan infront of him.

As he woke with a start. It could have been a reaction to sleeping in enemy territory or his brain could have been alerting him to a noise; he wasn't sure. The dim light of a new dawn, still broke through the tree line, the sunlight causes more shadows. Mickey had his sword on his side, and his small balde safely tucked away. If there was something in these woods, he'd find it.

Beyond the wall, the world was silent. Things didn't live where the dead came back; at least that's what he figured. It would seem serene if he didn't know better. Just around the bend there could be ice dragons, bears, or whatever other monstrous creatures from children's stories of the white walkers.

Once sure no one was around he mounted his horse to continue his hunt. After hours searching the woods, Mickey began to wonder if the information was wrong, if it was a trap. He knew there was no going back to castle black with out evidence so what his options on the matter were beside the point.

Normally the horse could gallop for a couple of hours before losing steam. But this cold was taking it's toll, epic days-long gallop in the blistering snow. The location had changed and it was no longer flat terrain, where the horse could easily continue and Mickey he could see for miles, now the land had mountains and rigid rocks on the ground

The horse needed a break, Mickey had been pushing him in this cold. As much as he would have rather drudge forward he knew the horse would be useless it he didn't get some water.

He needed to stay warm, he needed to stay awake. Mickey decided to inspect his sword, ensuring it was ready for any battle. The balance of his weapon was impeccable. The metal of the carved guard, and leather-bound hilt, balanced the thick, heavy blade efficiently. He gave it a few more swings, adjusting his stance to compensate for the weight of the sword.

Mickey was focused on his form, on his, swing, on his return he didn't see Eyes were watching him, a figure behind the rock.  
***  
Ian Gallagher was excellent at stalking prey, he relished it. The hunt was sometimes so much more important than the actual feast. He had to prove himself, not just Frank Gallagher's son, but a valuable hunter on his own. A warrior; the best they'd ever see. He trained everyday to kill crows, to protect his people, he had the ability and charisma to lead his people; even more than his father but they were not like the people over the wall, they didn't kill for power, they earned it.

Laying in wait, patient throughout, knowing that the prey will be lulled by a false sense of security.

Today he was not hunting for his supper, he was hunting crow. Ian Gallagher, son of Frank, the king of the free folk. They had known the Crows would come for them, the wildlings were encroaching too close to their territory.

Ian had never seen a Crow before. He assumed they were all fat men; too lazy from living in their warm castles with food they didn't kill or prep. He assumed they had no sword skills, or close combat. He was realizing he was wrong.

He had been told to take back the man in the black cloak, he knew it was the only way to protect his people. Ian could have attacked, instead he watched the crow, not for a sign of weakness, but for something else entirely, something that was much more primal. He wanted to watch, watch his body move effortlessly, to examine his body.

He had desired men before, more than he ever desired woman, the free folk had no care about who someone fucked. But Ian was sure having lustful feelings for a Crow would not be welcomed

He watched, unsure of how to proceed. This is not his ordinary prey, nor is it an ordinary conclusion he desired.

In fact, he was unsure what he desired, exactly. Perhaps he should have kept his mind sharp. As he watched the sword swing and near miss his head.

"Who the fuck is there" Mickey bellowed his sword emerging from the bush.

Ian slowly arose. His long red hair flew wild in the wind. "I'm Ian, the free folk sent me to stop the Crow from slaughtering us"

"I ain't here to kill you. Where the fuck is Frank?"

Ian smirked a phrase he was all too familiar with. Many wondered how Frank became a leader. His smart mouth Ian assumed, his ability to spur bullshit into gold. Frank definitely wasn't the strongest wildling or the bravest but his wit and inability to die were beyond compare.

"Frank has a way of not being in places that'll kill him" Ian's posture was nonchalant near the enemy, who kept his sword close to Ian's throat.

"I'm Mikhailo of the night's watch, we need information. I need Frank's child"

Ian laughed again. Mickey wasn't sure what was wrong with this wildling. Maybe the cold air, and isolated area made him go crazy, maybe all free folk were like this.

"Which one?" Ian finally made the laughing make sense "Franks got six kids." Ian felt safe telling the crow that, he'd keep the part where he was one of Frank's a bit longer. "You want the oldest she's cunning like him? Maybe one of the next two boys one is the brains the other brawn. He's got another girl she's wild; especially for a wildling. And two more boys after that a raw talent that needs to be harnessed, and the other as your folk would say a scholar?"

Ian knew if others heard him speaking that way they'd think he was a traitor; except Ian was smarter than people assumed, he was the muscles what brain could he have?

He knew the information gave nothing to the crow, yet it would seem as he was a willing participate in this attempted capture. As Ian made sure not to move to close to the blade pointed at his neck.

"Fuck." Mickey lowered his weapon. he wasn't given enough information of what to do next.

Ian's opportunity. Crows were clearly easy to confuse, Ian's gaze slowly followed the sword downward. He darted for Mickey, head down; impact into Mickey's chest. His arms wrapped around the thick black cloak of the crow. The hit arched Mickey's spine falling hard to the cold ground. The sword clattered from his hand and skittered across the flat white terrain.

Mickey's eyes closed tightly on the impact of snow and ice. He could feel Ian's breath on his cheek Slowly he opened his eyes to see Ian with a piercing stare. Stunning. Breathtaking. Sensual. It made a shiver down his spine, which he assumed was from the cold snow melting down his back. The eye contact remained for a long moment. The tension was electric, sexual, and delicious. Mickey had never experienced anything so intense.

"You're eyes--" Ian broke the silence, his fist still hovering in the air having never made contact with flesh and bone

Mickey threw Ian off standing up with a huff. "Yeah and they've always been blue eyes so don't go making any white walker jokes"

"Who the fuck would joke about that?" Ian asked getting himself back on his feet. White walkers and the army of the dead wasn't something the free folk joked about, they weren't just stories to them, they were a real threat.

It had been Mickey's turn to attack, regaining his sword. "You gotta be tied up, pullin' shit like that?"

"You expect me to lead you to my family? Armed, an enemy? If anyone needs to go tied up it's you."

Ian would be seen as someone to be taken seriously capturing a Crow. The siblings has all been trying to over throw their father and king, knowing he was a drunken idiot who conned people into believing in him. They all agreed he didn't have the clans best interests. What they didn't agree on is who should be the rightful leader. Ian's two older siblings felt they were the obvious choice. They also believed Ian's ideas of grandeur and ability to lead were ridiculous.

After deliberation somehow being tied together was the only solution. They were each other capture, they were headed in the same direction. Neither one could be trusted.

They walked for hours, Mickey wondered if the wildling was just taking him in circles; everything looked the same out here. Perhaps trying to get him weary to take advantage of a situation again.

"Hurry up" Ian pulled on his side of the rope.

"Fuck you, I feel like a calf with a dangling wet umbilical cord struggle to keep up with the fucking long-legged fast-moving moose mother.”

"Moose are majestic creatures"

***

"We'll rest here" Ian declared

"Here? where? It's the fucking middle of no where!"

"Oh you crows don't know your up from down. I know where we are and it's still a half a day journey." Ian glanced behind him at Mickey who had trouble catching his breath " You can't make it any further anyway. Ain't no commander out here to impress."

He couldn't argue. He settled down into the snow, wondering how it'll ever be comfortable enough to sleep on.

"We should huddle together for warmth" Ian suggest.

"Maybe this cold air froze your fucking brain Ian, but I ain't laying with you"

"Do all you Southerners fear a man's touch or is that just you?" Ian asked

It wasn't a question Mickey could easily answer. He had laid with men, out of a need, a physical need to expel those feelings that his father would have his head for.

"You'll die then"

Mickey shrugged

"You'd rather die than risk being close to me?" Ian questioned as he did he tugged on the rope. "Ain't like you'll be going far"

****  
Mickey should have been up by now.

How had he slept. The sun peaking over the mountains told him it was well past morning. He lifted his head in an attempt to block his eyes from the sun only to discover it was still attached to the wildling.

The scent of Ian surrounded him; they were each other's captures, together they needed to survive the cold. They huddled together that night , but now they seem to have shifted closer in the darkness. The smell of the wildlong invaded his nostrils, made his head feel light and muddled, and was only making the erection he had harder to will away.

His forehead was pressed against Ian's back as the other man slept, struggling not to squirm while he contemplated the chances of waking Ian up.

"Hey, you pull another knife on me" Ian muttered as he woke.

"Wha--fuck--" Mickey shifted his hips away, still unable to get too far away. "Get up. We should go"

"Seems you're already up, and ready to go" Ian gave a sly smile as he twisted his body to face Mickey. Giving him a glimpse at the fact he also had morning wood.

****  
Mickey had a long list of reasons to hate the wildlings: most noticeable they killed his mother. Not to mention the army they were building to come over the wall and kill everyone else; at least that's how the story was told.

How had he gotten himself into this situation was beyond his wildest comprehension. He knew he said they'd be tied together to be each other's prisoner but seeing that he didn't know the way and was being dragged along he was certain he was the one who had drawn the short stick. He wouldn't say it outloud, but the view wasn't terrible from back there.

" What's wrong with ya crow?" Ian asked

"Me? Fuck, I'm fine." An obvious lie

"All crows a bad a liar as you?"

"I'm tied to you, in this snow dessert with no fucking ale." He ranted.

"Well I ain't got ale, but sour goats milk is stronger than anything you Southerners drink" Ian stopped walking turning his body to Mickey his hand patting a skin hide satchel near his hip. He popped the cork on the leather bota bag

"I ain't a Southerner" Mickey took offense

"Yer from beyond that wall you're a southerner" Ian passed over the milk. "Now drink"  
_Drink_  
_Drink_  
_Drink_

He pointed his finger at Ian "You killed my mother" Mickey spat

"No I couldn't even walk yet let alone kill anyone"

"Don't play word tricks with me. Your kind killed her"

"And how many of my kind have you tortured and killed?"

Mickey nodded Ian had him there  
_Drink_

_Drink_

_Drink_

"All you crows have such odd names. Michaelangelo?"

"It's Mikhailo" He sighed

"Yeah ok Mick". Ian took another swig from the bag.

Mickey had never head anyone call him that. The towns people always too scared to say anything except lord. His sister tormented him with the name Mickey but mick was new, he liked how it sounded. He could have just likes the way the words came out of Ian's mouth

"Yer one to talk firecroch"

"It's Ian" he reminded though he liked that the crow was thinking about his nether regions.

_Drink_  
_Drink_  
_Drink_

“We should kiss, just get it out of the way and move on," Ian licked his lips, both in trying to be sensual and to catch the spilled drink it was a crazy idea that sounded more so as each second passed There’s was an undeniable hitch in Mickey's breath, his eyes fixated on Ian's lips. “I ain't interested" "Afraid of falling in love with me?” He grinned Mickey could feel his lips want to curl into a smile. The firey red head seemed to be his type- confident, sexy, and exactly what he didn't need, or let him self have “I won't fall in love.”

Another grin. “Liar.”

_Drink_  
_Drink_  
_Drink_

"Proveit.” Mickey slurred pulling his long sword from its holt. He was convinced Ian getting the tackle in him was a once in a lifetime fluke. That he was a better fighter than that. Ian shook his shoulders allowing his grey and white cloak to fall into the snow. Mickey could have a better look at the kid. Seeing that the bulk of the cloak wasn't just fur but the boy had muscles to back it up. "Put your weapon away, free folk fight like real men." He raised his fists.

 _____“_____ Like what you see?” Ian asked when he caught Mickey staring, his eyes glazed over, though that could have been from the alcohol.

“Enough talking, wildling, let’s do this.”

“You’re on.”

Ian tried to pretend that Mickey was just another person, wildlings train all the time. He was just another body. But every time Mickey touched him, electricity shot through his veins, every graze felt like a sting of ice. The sensation was probably amplified by alcohol and the adrenaline.

Ian should have been more focused on where Mickeys next punch was going; square in the jaw. "Nice shot mick, it won't happen again" he shifted his chin ensuring nothing was broken

Those eyes, Ian had only seen eyes like that on the dead. But Mickey was far from dead, he had a passion inside him that came out with every move. Mickey went for the tackle similar to the one Ian manager to grab him with.

Mickey's hands sunk into the snow on either side of Ian's head, their bodies pressed together, he grinned. “You lose, freckles.”

“Ac'ually I'm pretty…hic…" Mickey couldn't argue with Ian there "….sure I win.”

“But I pinned you.”

“Exactly.” Ian tilted his head back, his lips connected with Mickey's it was just a peck. Their lips just brushed each other.

"I need another fucking drink." Mickey pushed off Ian stumbling back to find the sour milk, unable to remember where they left it.

 _____Drink__  
Drink  
Drink_ _ _

_______After a few hours, mickey woke up, squinting as the_______ light bounced off the snow "Wha-what happened?" He asked

"I knew you Southerners didn't know how to drink" Ian said with a smirk "I didn't know you knew howda kiss tho" he teased "How much do you remember?" Ian raised an eyebrow.

Mickey scratched his head "I only remember up until the third…fourth" he tried counting on his fingers "how many drinks…" he paused "whadya mean kiss?"

"Ah, don't tell me it wasn't as good for you as It was for me Mick" Ian gave some sad puppy dog eyes.

Mickey did remember liking how Ian said mick. "Fuck, a mouths a mouth ain't nothing special" he brushed off the comment. Probably just the wildling trying to get into his head. "We should be going."

The remainder of the journey was silent.

It was dusk as they arrived at the wildling camp. The sun burning orange as it began to disappear behind the mountains, the clouds purple and blue filled the sky. Mickey wasn't expecting to see people and tents pitched as far as his eye could see. Across the flat snowy banks. There were more wildlings than anyone at the wall had imagined. If the time for war came the Nights watch was sorely outnumbered.

****  
The king beyond the wall was not what Mickey had expected. He wore fur to broaden his shoulders, though their sagged line made the man appear weary and exhausted instead of manly and proud. The man responsible for bringing together all the wildling clans; Frank Gallagher a drunk!

"Ya lost Crow?" He slurred.

“Your Grace,” Mickey didn't like being so formal to a man who didn't seem like her deserve it. "I've been sent by the Lord commander of the nights watch"

He'd made it into the heart of the camp, now he needed to find leverage, information and a way out. Mikhailo kept a keen eye on ever entrance, tent, and wildling that would be a threat.

"Yeah, he wants my head" Frank began "you see, your people don't understand us free folk, you don't understand what it's like to have no master, to be no slave. We damage the system, we need to be eliminated to keep their way of life." His voice was loud, it carried across the open air.

"I thought it was more about your people killing ours. You trying to come over our wall where you don't belong Frank" Mickey was done with pleasantries he might not have been sent here to kill Frank but listening to him talk; he might.

"The system relays on the weak, it relays on the corrupt and it relays on the fear of the unknown. Therefore your peasants never rise up to defeat the Lords. This is why we will not Bend the knee!" The cheers grew louder. Frank took a drink from his horn goblet

"Lord commander Jacobi don't want you bending the knee. Just to fuck off and stop killing us. Maybe surrender to this looming war"

"You wanted me to surrender" Frank chuckled. "Thought talking to me would work?" He still had a laugh in his throat. "should of stole my kid while you had the chance." His hand painted toward Ian. "Granted he ain't my favourite but he's blood so ya know--" Frank shrugged through more of his rambling, and Mickey wasn't listening he was too busy processing the information he was just given.

"Wait a fucking minute" Mickey's hands shot up "you tellin' me, yer one of Frank's?" He asked

"Well there ain't no proof but that's what they tell me" Ian joked

"I had the fucking child of Frank Gallagher, king of the free folk, in captivity the whole fucking time. I didn't need to be here."

"Who you callin' a child? Grampa"

"You're a god damn fucking prince?"

"Why you so damn shocked ain't you like a Lord? That's some fancy fucking shit too right?"

"We'll let you two hash out the details of that." Frank nodded at his own idea whilst trying to save his own neck and get out of there before the crow killed him.

Free of King Gallagher's rantings, Mickey had time to mull over how he was going to bring the prince to Castle Black without any of the wildlings catching him in the act.

It shouldn't have bothered him, but Mickey also wondered what would happen to Ian when he became a prisoner of the nights watch.

Ian had been rambling apologizing for Frank or something, but Mickey couldn't listen. He was watching Ian's mouth move, but was more intent on following the shape of his lips as they form endless words.

Mickey was their willing prisoner, agreeing not to kill anyone while they slept. Frank would hold a deliberation of what to do with him next. They didn't trust him, Mickey didn't trust them. But they were in this situation, Mickey had to use his survival skills. Alienating himself, being hostile could easily allow for any random and angry wildling to come and try to kill him. Mickey decided, staying close, observer their behaviour would give him the best advantage in the upcoming war.

*****

Mickey stood by watching all the wildlings come to Ian for help. He was like a Maester and a Witch rolled into one. Using herbs to heal, using his hands to realign bones.

"Shit,” a wildling named Caleb hissed. “Can’t you do this any faster?” The cut wasn’t as bad as it looked. Mickey watched as Ian's delicate hands traced over the wound. His pale long fingers stood out against the wildlings dark skin.

"I'll just sew it up. You'll be fine.” Ian assured him.

Mickey tried not to snicker. Sewing was a woman's task, only something their fragile hands could handle. But as Mickey stood there watching Ian use precision with each graceful thread, he was honestly impressed.

“Done,” Ian murmured cutting the remaining string.

Caleb seemed to linger his eyes wanting to stay focused on Ian, but the crow in the corner had him obviously uneasy. He left out of the canvas tent.

"He comes in for every little thing" Ian began. "Everyone thinks he's some strong warrior, but he's a fucking pussy"

Mickey smirked hearing Ian talk that way. "What's he do to you?"

"He's a fucking man whore"

Mickey had never heard the term. Though he'd be sure to inform Iggy about it the next chance he had, seeing as his brother definitely was one.

"We had a thing.…he slept around…"

"I'll fucking kill him for you" Mickey offered unsure why the information made him want to skin the man alive

"Nah, thanks, I'm over it he ain't worth my time."

***

As more wildlings came into the medic tent Mickey witnessed the free folk in a way that had never been explained to him. They were the same. Warriors making their way in this world.

What he saw was Ian. He'd never watch someone so gentle with a blade as he cut off rotting flesh. He had never seen someone with bedside manner; it was more chop a limb off and get back to work in the North.

He knew he couldn’t show affection, couldn’t have a feelings for a wildling. He had to be absolute to lead the nights watch to Victory, and that meant that he couldn’t have conflicting feelings for a free folk.

Before Mickey could say a word Ian tentatively touched his lips to Mick's pressing a chaste, a barely there kiss to his mouth. Unsure if it's something he should do, if the crow would break his neck for trying such things.

Mickey's eyes snapped up, wide and astonished, those blue eyes stared into Ian's soul. How could he have forgotten their first kiss? At the taste of Ian's lips that drunken night all came back to him. A small hopeful smile curled on his lips. His hands settling on Ian’s hips.

They broke apart at the sound of someone clearing their throat. Mickey quickly wiping his mouth as if it erased the feeling that lingered. Ian turned to the opening of the tent to see a familiar wildling. “this some kinda new treatment? Do I get to be next." He asked

"Get the fuck out" Mickey's voice growled. His commanding Lord voice had no power here, but it was enough to make the small wildling shake in his boots.

"Trevor unless your dying get out" Ian said dryly

"I might be dying, you might have to examine my whole body" The sound of his voice made Mickey's skin crawl. He was regretting the deal to not kill any wildlings.

"You don't leave I'll give him something to fix" Mickey threatened.

"You let him speak for you Ian" Trevor took one step too close toward Ian. Mickey's blood boiled his body moved without instruction from his brain. His knee came up to make content with Trevor's groin.

The only sound was 'oof' as the air escaped his lungs"Don't work when you don't have a dick" Trevor laughed hunched over sightly, obviously not the full effect Mickey was going for.

"Fucking eunuchs" Mickey stormed out of the tent.

"Mick…." Ian sighed "fuck you Trevor" he left the tent behind Mickey

*****

Mickey stood outside the tent pacing, he needed to get away from the wildlings, but he hadn't intended on walking out on Ian. He wasn't sure what he was going to say; he didn't see fit for an apology, nor did he own the wildling an explanation. He just needed to see him again. They had unfinished business.

Ian stood there watching for a moment his arms crossed. “What do you want, Mick? Is the Crow mad he ain't in charge here? Or there somethin' that you want?”

“You,” he growled. “I want you.”

"Yeah fucking rights, what would your Lord commanders do with me?" Ian asked knowing any other of his siblings would be suited for the wager

"I ain't saying my Lord commander, I'm sayin' I want you, Gallagher."

Ian blinked. “You want me? to wha? kiss me?” He questioned as if he heard Mickey wrong, maybe 'want you' was the start of the sentence and was going to end with 'dead'

Mickey shifted uncomfortably, his eyes rolled up no longer trying to keep eye contact with Ian. "Yeah…"

"Thought you said a mouths a mouth"

"It is, don't mean I ain't allowed to have one I prefer." He rubbed the back of his neck, he shouldn't want Ian and if the wildling was smart he should have nothing to do with him; Mickey did plan on killing his father, or stealing a wildling child for the nights watch. He was no good for him, he was sure they both knew it.

“You want me,” Ian began to tease him. One hand snaked out grabbing the Crows hip “you know nothing Mickey Milkovich, because I’m just waiting for you to give into me.” His lips skimmed Mick's throat, scorching a pathway of fire as he reached his ear, giving it a gentle nip with his teeth.

He knew why he came to Ian's tent, he knew what he wanted to do. But Ian's passion and self assurance had Mickey losing the conversation, losing his train of thought. He was sure his knees we're going to buckle at the sudden pulsing below.

“Don’t think I don’t know when yer’ lookin at me just because m’ eyes r’ sewing someone up” he called Mickey out. “But you catch me staring too, don’t ya” Ian added.

Mickey pulled Ian closer between his legs, clamping his thighs around Ian's hips, if he couldn't take back the conversation with words he would with pure strength. Mickey tugged him forward; Ian nearly losing his balance at the sudden urgency. Through the dark cloak and fur his desire rubbed against Ian's.

“I don’t let people in.” I Mickey felt the need to tell Ian that this wouldn't last. “And I don’t get to be with anyone I want…"

" Maybe somehow this is perfect right now, just for us.” Ian added. He grabbed Mickey by the back of the head and mashed their lips together; if someone was going to be the winner of this conversation it was Ian.

Mickey broke the kiss almost instantly, pulling back as if to object but finding no reason in his brain as to why. "Again," he said quietly, leaning in.

Ian's tongue brushed against Mickey's upper lip, testing the waters of this. Mickey opened his mouth to it. It was exploratory, almost sweet. He pressed his tongue into Ian's mouth with increasing pressure, tipping his head to deepen the kiss. When he withdrew this time, it was a slower process, gently finishing with closed lips.

"I want you on your knees" Ian instructed

"Fuck you I ain't bending the knee to the free folk"

"Not exactly what I had in mind" the tinkle in his eye was undeniable as he lowered his pants. "Suck my dick, whenever I want."

Mickey pushed back, he'd never be the one sucking a cock. Too vulnerable, an easy spot for someone to stab him in the jugular, twist his neck, or any other number of ways Mickey has imagined people could kill him while giving head.

He inhaled deeply.

Mickey licked his hand and reached down to stroke Ian a few times.

Ian took a deep breath, slightly nervous that the crow could choose this moment to torture or mutilate him. His life literally in his hand.

“Slow,” Ian commanded.

Mickey has lowered down to his knees. He licked the underside of the cock-head that was in his face. His arms wrapped around Ian's thighs. He exhaled.

Ian put a steadying hand on Mickey's head.

Ian slid his cock a quarter of the way in before beginning to pull it out again, starting a slow rhythm as Mickey stretched his lips around the shaft.

Ian would have taken his time easing Mickey into his full length, but the Crow was a quick study, eager for more. It wasn't long before Ian all the way into Micky's mouth. Mickey groaned and the vibration had Ian clenching his eyes shut.

Mickey didn't do well with commands and soon quickened his pace, combines with long drawn out thrusts a few times, before quickening again. His tongue was curling delectably round his length. He pulled his mouth off Ian, adjusting his jaw, then slid right back down, gagging as Ian slotted right into his throat. Mickey bobbed slightly, allowing Ian to remain deep in his mouth for a few moments, before coming up for air.

"You better stop now crow before you get the full taste of wildling cock" Ian warned

Mickey felt his lower region tingle with excitement. He eagerly took all of Ian back into his mouth, and a few seconds later he felt the warm liquid shoot into his mouth. Ian let out a loud moan as he released. Mickey pulled away from the wildlings dick with a pop and looked up at him with a mischievous grin.

"Up" Ian instructed "lemme show you how we do it here beyond the wall."

Mickey knew if didn't matter what Ian did, he'd empty his load at Ian's first touch.

***

Mickey had forgotten when it happened or why. He'd taken off his crows cloak, began donning the grey furs of the free folk. He'd spent an entire lifetime standing out. He didn't need another reason for people to stare.

Ian's hand squeezed tightly within Mickey's. He kissed Mickey's knuckles, he had never seen someone mutilate their hands for a message, the markings that once looked so scary now brought comfort as he traced his hands across the letters.

"You know they don't care" he whispered leaning into Mickey. "free folk are free in all sense of the word" Ian reminded. He could feel Mickey's body tense as their fingers were entangled. Mickey could only imagine what the brother's of the night watch would say about this. They'd have his head, a traitor to the wall.

"But what would they say." Mickey began "my claim to be here to settle a war when I ain't even loyal to my kind" his kind, the words stung, his kind never liked him anyway. "..And you Looking into my eyes like a lovesick pup." Mickey said it like it bothered him but having someone look at him for more than the shade of his eyes was refreshing if not a bit unsettling.

Mickey also noticed the other eyes that lingered. Ian had quite the following of wildlings that were not happy with who he spent company with; whether they knew anything or not was not the point. Ian's older siblings made it known they didn't like Mikhailo in their home, that he wasn't welcome. They even made their voices known that they should have killed him the moment he arrived.

They ran into the woody area that lined the path to the camp. It was the only place for miles that provided any coverage of the area. Mickey out of habit of hiding who he was tried to hold to a zigzag pattern heading into the center of the woods.

Ian again; like the first time they met put his arms around Mickey's waist pulling them to the ground. He pulled Mickey close. The cold air was quiet that night. No howling winds, no wild animals. All they could hear their heartbeats. Mickey whispered “I think we’re alone now. There don't seem to be anyone around.”

"Who the fuck would be around?" Ian asked apparently oblivious to the things Mickey had seen

"Your Fanatic wildlings, your siblings. Don't fucking pretend like you don't know." Mickey responded. He didn't want to talk about them.

Ian nodded He kissed mickey desperately, their lips moved languidly but hungrily, Mickey groaned quietly as he felt Ian's body leaned in.

He didnt know how long they were like that, holding each other and kissing like they have all the time in the world.

Mickey didn't like to think too long on his feelings for Ian or why they were doing this or how much time they really had. It were pointless and painful and most of the time he didn't have the energy to deal with it. Because Ian Gallagher is just a a target, a wildling, a wildling that flirts endlessly with him, who's mouth is warm, who looks at Mickey like he would mount him if given the chance. Ian was also the only free folk who talked to Mickey, and maybe was little too comfortable around him; since he was suppose to be the enemy.

His lips were still tingling from the pressure of the kiss.

He was fucked.  
*****  
"How the fuck did Frank become king?"

"Who the fuck knows. Maybe they just gave him the crown to shut him up!"

"That back fired" Mickey took a swing of the sour goats milk, he was becoming accustomed to taste. "So why don't you take the crown?"

"Ain't how it works over here. All the wildling clans hate each other, it's amazing they backed behind Frank. It don't work here like it does beyond the wall. A son doesn't take over for his father; plus I wouldn't be next in line."

"But you believe in the North--"

"The true North not you're pathetic warm north" Ian corrected with a grin

"Yeah yeah true North strong and free whatever. ok but well the people fucking love you or have you not noticed?"

"You saying you love me Mick?" The words spilled from Ian's lips. He muttered them against the surprisingly warm skin of Mickey, in the cold north. The question was asked half rhetorically, though the tone suggested a desperation. Mickey looked at him curiously, as if the notion of love had never even occurred to him; because who would want his love, to be loved by him, to love him. Mickey seemed to consider it for a moment. He took Ian's hand in his and brushed his lips across the knuckles and lets out a soft, thoughtful hum.

It wasn't a no.

"So you think I could lead the free folk?" Ian asked; obviously satisfied by Mickey's gesture.

"They'd follow you right off a god damn cliff. Ya got more between your ears than Frank, and more between your legs than any man."

"You know nothing about me, how would you know if I'd be any good at this?"

“fuck you I don't know nothing. The closer we..." He cleared his throat "the more I-- I fucking listen ok, and I notice shit,” Mickey lifted his head to meet mossy green eyes, “the more I believe in ya what you people do out here.”

"Oh right and everyone would chant my name?"

Mickey smiled "long live the king"  
"King Ian. King for the Free. I think it has a good ring to it."

Ian punched Mickey in the arm "fuck off" he chuckled

****

"But he isn't a Crow anymore!" Ian pointed to Mickey who was still donned in wildling colours during the sentencing.

“He’s a Crow, or coward" Fiona cut in before Frank could say anything

"Perhaps traitor is a better word" Lip suggested "we don't keep traitors in our ranks"

“Your concerns are touching,” Frank took their hatred of the Crow as love and support of him. " But you see, we have ourselves a situation here. Here I can save his life, but that'll make my people think I'm weak. Do you think I’m weak?”

Mickey looked up at the panel of Frank, Fiona, Lip and Ian wondering if he was the one who was suppose to answer. Frank looks weak, he acts more like a cockroach than a leader but riling him up doesn't seem in his best interest

“No?” His eyebrows suggest he doesn't believe the word.

"No! But can I just kill you? Making me no better than where you came from. Do you think I'm like the kings on your side of the wall?"

“No!” Mickey said simply Kings beyond the wall doesn't talk as much as this fucker.

“Because what am I?”

“Free?" Mickey took a guess.

"Yes, yes" Frank hit the table infront of him in excitement "he gets it, he knows." He beamed "he'll never bend the knee for another king again." Mickey tried to avoid eye contact with Ian "He understands our way! He won't take one of my boys…"

Debbie cleared her throat

"….or girls?" Frank squinted "what I mean to say is, we've come to a mutual understanding, this bickering has come to an end, the war avoided, everything has come to fruition" he was rambling; again.

Mickey assumed this meant the deliberation was going his way.

"He's a knave, a common thief, he's not worth…"

"Fuck off Lip" Ian interupted. "Let him prove himself. Let him show you what he can do"

"Oh I think we already know he's shown you what he can do" Fiona's snide comment hurt.

"Now now, love is love, who are we to judge what gets someone else's rocks off" Frank pipped up between his offspring.

"He stays!" Frank said loudly for everyone to hear. "Someone find me something to drink!" Obviously all his difficult decision making had taken its toll.  
*****

Mickey found himself back in Ian's tent. A place he was more than his own. He was staying, they weren't going to have his head. He wouldn't have to go back to the wall. He'd fight along side Ian and the other free folk if the Crows ever came to look for him.

He wasn't sure who initiated it first but they were moving their hips together, grinding each other to hardness. He was staying, this is real. Their kissing turned fanatic as they pressed tightly against one another, breathless.

Mickey's hand tighten around Ian's clothing in a tug of war between pulling him closer and trying to tear them off. He unlaced Ian's trousers, pulling his already hard cock out.

"I want you to fuck me, Gallagher”

Ian's hand wrapped around Mickey's ass, his fingers slip along the top of Mickey's pants before lowering them. His fingers returned back to the top of Mickey's ass, in that small divot where the spine ended and buttock began. Ian rubbed his fingers there, the anticipation sent a shiver through Mickey

First it was one finger, but quickly moved on to two. Mickey had never experienced being a bottom, he knew he had never been this good at being a topper. With every moan Mick let out, Ian worked faster. In his medial opinion Mickey was ready, and his throbbing cock ready to go in. Ian grabbed something from the medical shelf in the tent. Placing it all over his length. "Wha-- ya got there doc?" Mickey was already breathless.

"Lubrication, to help slide in."

"Ain't never heard of that..." Mickey shrugged.

Ian's cock circled Mickey's hole, adding pressure as it slid in further and further, before ramming it into place; Mickey noticed the appeal of lubrication. Mick's back arched, his penis becoming fully erect again. He wanted more.

“Harder, Faster.”

Ian happily to oblige. His hands held tightly onto Mickey's hips, going deeper and quicker, with no end in sight.  
Mick's vision was blurry, his whole world was spinning. It seemed like it would never stop and he didn’t want it to. He wanted Ian to pound him forever. He squeezed his eyes tight muttering "fuck, yeah" between the heavy breathing.

It Mickey's surprise, one of Ian's hands had left his hip and now held onto his aching cock.

“What are you doing?”

“finishing together." Ian said simply, feeling the growing need to realise himself into Mickey "you're fucking tight Milkovich, surprised you lasted this long" Ian teased

Mick liked that answer, and knew he lasted as long as he had on pure will of never wanting the moment to end. If it wasn't for Ian's long arms it would have felt more awkward.

Ian pushed himself far into Mickey who's arms almost gave out at the new orgasmic experience he was having. The different angle was hitting his prostate, Mickey lost control and came. Ian still vigorously pumping into him, before thrusting hard once more letting out a loud groan.

Ian stopped soon after and pulled out, laying back down next to Mickey, panting lightly. Their eyes connected, a cocky smirk still on Mickey's face, his hand cupped Ian's cheek and pressed his lips to his in a possessive and lustful kiss.

The next morning, Mickey was already gone, Ian woke up to an empty bed, feeling the crow gone had disappointed him, mostly because he couldn’t wake him up in a “special way” but maybe next time. Once dressed he emerged from the tent, his hair tousled, not to mention the love bites, and claiming marks on his collar bone which was very visible until draping his cloak on.

"Ay! Gallagher, I put those there for a reason, ain't for you to cover up"

Ian instantly had a smile on his face hearing Mickey's voice. He wouldn't admit it but he was afraid the crow was gone; waking up in the cold bed.

"What's this you claiming me? We're free here my Lord"

"Give ya something to remember by" Mickey gave a side smile as he approached Ian.

The words made Ian freeze in his spot. His brain trying to make sense of the words. "Going somewhere?"

"Yeah, the fucker who thinks he can see into a bird's eye…"

"He's a Warg, and yeah he informs us of threats. He has the power to project his mind into animals to see what they see" Ian explained to deaf ears, Mickey was sure it was all just the rantings of a drunk man.

"Well he seems to think the nights watch is on its way. I gotta go, stop em, convince them there ain't anything here worth fighting."

"I ain't worth fighting for?"

"Fuck you man, that ain't what I was saying." Mickey made some exasperated noise with his mouth and flung his hands up in the air. "I don't want a war, you don't want a war on your people's doorstep. I didn't come all this way just to die"

Ian was just noticing Mickey was wearing his black cloak again. "So you already made up your mind?"

Mickey mounted the black horse near by. His stead always stood out amongst the pale white and gray horses the wildling spread to blend in with the snow.

"It's what's right" Mickey sighed. He clicked his tongue and the horse turned with the reigns before bolting away.

Mickey had only made it to the outskirts of town when he stopped. Turning behind him seeing what he knew was there galloping to catch up with him. He hung his head down as Ian's horse approach. He hated goodbyes it's why he tries to make a clean exit. Mickey waited to hear Ian's voice.

"You could stay"

"I love you." Mickey had never told anyone that. The words felt foreign on his lips, but they also felt right. It wasn't an answer to Ian's statement nor was it asked of him to say it. But he needed Ian to know it, to hear it before he left.

"Then get off the fucking horse and come back with me" The pain in Ian's voice made Mickey practically choke on his next words. "I can't.. I have to..." Why couldn't Ian understand he was doing this for him. He had to leave so Ian could have a chance, a chance of a life. Mickey had to stop the Nights watch from marching further to find them. Leaving him was because he loves him

Mickey knows Ian is the love of his life, he has to be, he had never felt the way he feels around anyone like the way he feels around Ian. So was he on his horse heading home; if home even describes a place he's never fit in, with people who have never liked him.

He could see it in Ian's eyes. The breath he's not exhaling, the hurt, confusion and desire to grab Mickey and beat him near death just to drag his body back to camp, to keep them together.

"I have an oath."

"Than make a new one. To me"

As the reality of Gallagher's declaration dawned on him. It's absurd! It I right. Never in the seven Kingdoms would they allow a Union that couldn't produce an heir. But they weren't in the seven kingdoms, and Mickey didn't really care for babies. During all their time spent together, they’ve shared their hopes, wants, dreams and, most importantly, their fears. It was an intimacy Mickey had never experienced, and part of it made him felt all the weight of those feelings hitting him all at once. Coming here seeing people free of the tyranny, the destruction of humanity in all of Westeros. Mickey hadn't exactly shown his best side to the man when they first met. And if he was being honest with himself he'd have to admit to being flighty––his instinct is to run from situations which he cannot handle. His whole life was an example of that

“I won’t do that to you,” Mickey shook his head, Ian brought his horse next to Mickey's, close enough to be able to lace their fingers together. "I ain't good enough for anyone man"  
Mickey let out a heavy breath, it shuddered through as it left his lungs.

“Yeah you’ve been through hardship and pain. So have I, it's the fucking world we live in" Ian reminded him, that he wasn't special for being jaded and angry.

" I’ve put you in enough danger. You’re a free man, I can’t-- I’m afraid that I will--"

"You'll what?" Ian interupted unimpressed at the lack of conviction in Mickey's argument. "You'll make me a better man? You'll fight for what you actually believe in and not some stupid war a Lord of gods knows what tells you?"

"Nah, you got it wrong, you make me better. I was leaving cause I thought it'd be better for you" mickey sniffed.

"Was?" Ian's face lit up for the first time in the conversation "Would you really give up everything for me?" He asked

"Yeah, you're under my skin man, the fuck can I do?" Mickey answered. "Whether you're king are you ain't I'll follow you" Mickey had become a whole new person because of Ian.

Without Mickey Ian felt lost, he needed him. And by the look Mickey had in his face, Ian could see he needed him too.  
"Fuck... then stay, K?"

"Fuck" Mickey gazed into the white abyss one last time before coaching the horse to turn around. Whatever was out there wasn't as important as what he had found here. "Yeah I'll stay. But just for you, I ain't bending the knee to Frank"

"No, but you'll bend the knee to me whenever I want right?"

"Whenever you want" Mickey smiled happily.

 

[](https://ibb.co/m43N1pY)


End file.
